


That's Not a Kraut...

by RadarsTeddyBear



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Genre: Bear Attack, Blood, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 23:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5721463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadarsTeddyBear/pseuds/RadarsTeddyBear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I-I mean it, Fritz!  Reach for the sky!”<br/>The rustling stopped, and a big, dark shape emerged from the bushes.<br/>“That’s not a kraut,” LeBeau said, looking way, way up at two gleaming eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's Not a Kraut...

**Author's Note:**

> From a tumblr prompt post: "Send me a pairing and a line of dialogue and I’ll write you something angsty-ish" (although I'm not really sure I achieved angst). The line is "Shit, are you bleeding?"
> 
> Disclaimer: the author in no way endorses punching bears in the nose as the best (or even a good) way to deal with bear attacks.

“Hey, quiet down!” LeBeau whispered in response to the rustling bushes next to him.

There was a pause. “That isn’t me, mate,” Newkirk said.

LeBeau slowly lowered his binoculars. “What do you mean, that isn’t you?” he asked.

Newkirk drew his gun out of his pocket, cocking it with a loud click. 

“All right. Come out with your hands up,” he said, trying desperately to keep his voice even.

The rustling paused for a second before starting up again.

“I-I mean it, Fritz! Reach for the sky!”

The rustling stopped, and a big, dark shape emerged from the bushes.

“That’s not a kraut,” LeBeau said, looking way, way up at two gleaming eyes.

“I think we should make a run for it!” Newkirk said.

“I think you’re right,” LeBeau said.

The two scrambled backwards and began to hightail it back to the emergency tunnel. 

Unfortunately, the bear followed. Fast.

“This isn’t working, Newkirk!”

“We just have to reach the bloody tunnel!”

“It’s too far! We’ll never make it!” LeBeau said.

“Well, do you have a better idea?”

LeBeau’s silence suggested that he did not.

“His nose!” Newkirk suddenly said, “Punch ‘im in the nose!”

“And how do you expect me to do that, huh? I can’t reach his nose!” LeBeau said. 

“Oh, just let me–” Newkirk suddenly stopped and turned around, facing the oncoming bear. In the blink of an eye, the bear was almost on top of him, and so before he could second-guess himself, he did exactly as he had suggested before–he punched it in the nose.

The bear reeled back, dropping back down to all fours. It shook its head a few times, as if trying to clear it, before turning around and lumbering back into the woods.

LeBeau had stopped a few feet ahead when he realized what his friend was doing. He leaned his hand against a tree for support as he caught his breath.

“Merde, are you bleeding?”

Newkirk looked at his hand in surprise. Sure enough, there was a thin layer of blood spreading across the outside of his palm.

“It’s nothing, Louis, just a scratch. Nothing to be worried about.”

LeBeau had gone pale.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Of course I’m sure. Come on, you aren’t going to faint on me now, are you?”

“N-no, I’m fine,” LeBeau said, swallowing. “Come on. Let’s get back to camp.”

The two began to walk back towards Stalag 13, being careful to keep quiet so as not to attract the attention of any more bears–or Germans.

“Are you sure it’s just a scratch?” LeBeau asked a few minutes later.

“Is it just a–of course it’s just a scratch, LeBeau, what, do you think I can’t even tell?” He paused. “Speaking of which, though, would you mind lendin’ me your scarf to wrap it up a bit?”

“What? No, of course not. You’ll get it dirty.”

“’Ow dirty can I get it? It’s already the right color, for cryin’ out loud.”

“It’s the only scarf I have!”

“This is the only hand I have!”

“I won’t be able to wash it properly until after the war.”

“Come on, Louis, I’m-I’m startin’ to think this is more than a scratch.”

LeBeau, who had been pointedly Not Looking at Newkirk and his hand, carefully glanced over. Even in the dark, LeBeau could see the inky liquid dripping onto the ground.

“Here. Take it,” he said, holding out the scarf, glad for the darkness that hid his blanched face.

“Thanks, mate,” Newkirk said, carefully using it to wrap his hand.

The two continued to walk in silence, LeBeau more on his guard than usual.

“How are you holding up?” Lebeau asked quietly.

“Just fine,” Newkirk muttered. “I’ll feel right better once we get to the tunnel, though.”

“We’re almost there,” LeBeau said. 

Newkirk nodded, his breathing becoming more irregular.

Finally, the small clearing housing the tree stump came into view.

“Come on,” LeBeau said encouragingly. “Just a little further.”

The two stopped and looked around, making sure that the coast was clear. They waited until the searchlight had passed by before darting to the stump. LeBeau opened it up and helped Newkirk into it before climbing down himself.

“Hey, what are you guys doin’ back so early?” Kinch asked.

“Bear attack.” LeBeau nodded towards his friend. “Newkirk needs medical attention.”

Kinch nodded. “I’ll go get Wilson.”

Newkirk sat down and slowly unwrapped his hand.

“Bloody ‘ell,” he muttered.

There was a lot of blood.

“Here. Let me take a look,” said Sgt Wilson, coming down the ladder.

“What happened up there?” Col Hogan asked, following.

“Bear attack,” said LeBeau.

“A bear attack? In Hammelburg?” Col Hogan asked.

“Oui,” said LeBeau, taking off his gloves. “We had to come back to the tunnel. It was chasing us.”

“You didn’t lead it to our front door, did you?” the Colonel asked.

“No. Newkirk punched it in the nose and it went away,” said LeBeau.

Hogan turned his attention to the wounded. “How is it?” he asked.

“It’s not too bad,” said Sgt Wilson. “The blood makes it look worse than it is. A few stitches and he’ll be good to go.”

“That’s it?” I let you bleed all over my scarf for that?” LeBeau said resentfully.

“We all have to make sacrifices in wartime,” Hogan said.

“You’re going to have to do a little more than that. It hurts like ‘ell,” said Newkirk.

“What exactly do you have in mind?” asked Wilson. "It’s not like we’ve got any morphine lyin’ around.”

“Actually, I was thinking a few glasses of schnapps might ‘elp take the edge off.”

“Yeah. Good luck finding some,” said Hogan. He turned to LeBeau. “So I take it you missed the drop?”

“Oui.”

Hogan nodded. “I’ll have Kinch radio London and we’ll try again tomorrow.”

“Is that really a good idea? The bear’s still probably out there,” said Kinch.

“We’ll have to risk it. Besides, if we’re lucky, it’ll get to the krauts first,” said Hogan, cracking a smile.

“There. Done,” Sgt Wilson said.

Newkirk flexed his fingers a few times.

“Just be careful. You don’t want to start bleeding all over the compound,” Col Hogan said.

“Will do, sir,” Newkirk said.

“Hey! Klink’s coming!” Carter called down into the tunnel.

Hogan gestured to the tunnel. “Up we go,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic can also be found on tumblr here: http://radarsteddybear.tumblr.com/post/137296012570/if-shit-are-you-bleeding-and-platonic-newkirk
> 
> Kudos and comments are most welcome!


End file.
